


And a trust between us

by ruihan



Category: DCU
Genre: Dragons, M/M, World's Finest, World's Finest Gift Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 09:09:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruihan/pseuds/ruihan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce is Bruce no matter *what* he is.  So Clark doesn't really know what's going on, and that's kind of okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And a trust between us

**Author's Note:**

> For the [world's finest](http://worlds-finest.dreamwidth.org/) gift exchange. The prompt was: Clark and/or Bruce get turned into dragons. I kind of had a bigger concept drafted in my head, but due to time restrictions I distilled my fic down to being just about trust and love. There are also too many parts about dragon designs. Sorry about that.

Clark does not realize what precisely is going on at first. There’s some…creature perched on the gargoyle before him hissing lowly. It’s about the size of an incredibly large big cat, smaller than a horse but…not by much. It’s black, nearly blending in with the night sky, with a sort of bat-ish face minus the fur. It’s leathery and scale-y and – are those wings?

Its large ear-things twitch and flatten on its head and it hisses much louder, the sound growing into a rumble.

“Whoa, okay there,” Clark says, hands held out before him. “Let’s just…keep calm.”

And the creature makes this…wuffling sound, for lack of better word. It’s a sort of exasperated sound and it ruffles its wings out. Clark for a split second is afraid it’s going to take flight and either flee or dive bomb him and he’s not sure what the protocol here is.

But instead it leaps down off the gargoyle, and its wings fold back into place at its sides, balance reestablished – and Clark realizes the thing is four legged. Honestly it looks like a – a dragon.

“Ok,” he says with that revelation. “I – I should call somebody. Maybe Zatanna. You look like a magical creature – are you a magical creature?”

It wuffles again, now sort of sighing. And then J’on is phasing up through the roof of the building.

“There you are Batman,” J’onn says, matter of fact. “Hello Superman.” 

B – Batman? _Bruce_? “What?”

J’onn sighs and the familiar _pop!_ of a mind link connecting sounds in Clark’s head.

_There was an incident. I need your help,_ Bruce’s voice sounds through the link.

_Zatanna is already informed of the situation and doing research_ , J’onn explains.

Clark looks at Bruce’s face – his eyes are stoic and expectant and planning just so very _Bruce_ – and then he looks to J’onn. Who simply shrugs in a ‘what can you do’ manner.

“Well,” Clark huffs on the exhale of a laugh. “At least there’s already a plan.”

 

+++

 

It turns out Bruce’s entire makeshift family has been afflicted by this ‘turning into mythical creatures’ thing.

“Did you or one of the kids anger a witch or something,” Clark asks only half-jokingly while Dick enthusiastically says hello by intertwining his long lean body around Clark’s. Dick is smaller and more snake-like – thin reedy legs, slick blue-ish silver scales, with fins and a long powerful body, clearly more suited for aquatic life than flying through the skies. The only reason Clark knows Dick _can_ fly is because he sort of floats off of Clark and back onto the kitchen floor before slither-walking off.

_Other than Damian, they are not kids_ , is what Bruce chooses to say, always the stoic in denial.

_Yeah, sure, whatever you say Bruce. And, at any rate, where are the rest of them?_ Clark retorts through the link, then after a moment of thought says outloud, “But you don’t deny someone messed with someone or something they shouldn’t have.”

_I won’t deny that there was a situation_ , Bruce repeats, which is all he’ll divulge on that topic. _The rest are all over the mansion, and Jason won’t come in off the grounds in the back – he has made a home of the hedge maze, especially._ Clark is…intrigued, because there is certainly a story Bruce is withholding. But when Bruce won’t share, Clark won’t make him, because trying to pry him open won’t do any good.

Bruce rustles his wings without flaring them open, something Clark has figured out means to follow him. It’s funny, but Bruce’s Batman mannerisms work very well in this form. The way his wings drape from behind looks just like his cape, honestly

Bruce takes him upstairs and towards the wing that Clark knows is deemed Alfred’s, though Alfred keeps his things confined to two rooms and denies the wing belonging to him. Clark…suddenly worries. Honestly, though he and Bruce have trust and understanding and have been breaching the more intimate aspects of being in a relationship lately, Clark has no doubt that Bruce will always depend on Alfred more than anyone else. And though reaching out to Zatanna and J’onn had certainly been a necessity, Clark isn’t so sure why Bruce so urgently needed to find him and bring him back to the mansion. Not if Alfred has everything as under control as he usually does. So…

So Clark’s answer is when they enter Alfred’s study. Alfred is there, and he too is a dragon, silver and sleek and curled in a makeshift nest on the floor sleeping. From what he can see, Alfred has no limbs, though a large pair of emerald-green feathered wings where forefeet would be.

_Alfred didn’t take the transformation that well_ , Bruce says. _Zatanna says he’s some type of amphiptere. Their weak point is that they’re part bird and can’t fly if they lose specific flight feathers._

_Let me guess,_ Clark think-speaks because he doesn’t want to wake Alfred. _Alfred lost those feathers._

_There was a battle. Also he was sick before the change, and I don’t think that helped._

Maybe it’s because it’s a telepathic link or maybe it’s because Clark just really knows Bruce, but the stoicism doesn’t convince Clark that Bruce is really as calm as he’s trying to sound. Clark also gets a weird inkling of a feeling that Alfred being sick is a much bigger part of all this than Bruce is letting on.

But he’ll let it lay. “A _battle_?”

_Yes a battle_ , Alfred’s voice comes in on the link, and his sharp eyes snap open, _I believe Master Bruce made something akin to a deal with the devil?_

_We won, didn’t we?_ Bruce snaps back, though gently and with an old familiarity that comes with their years of history together. _Everything’s been set straight._

Alfred actually physically sighs, and fixes Clark with a tired look. _Just look after everyone best you for me can until Miss Zatanna fixes this mess, would you?_

Clark nods fiercely, even as Bruce rustles his wings angrily and protests. _I need you to stop worrying about everybody –_

And Alfred begins to lift himself out of his curl, eyes conveying annoyance – _That’s right Master Bruce, you certainly *need* me for a number of things, and I think this situation shows just about how much –_

And Clark has been fussed at enough by Ma to know when a scolding is about to happen, so he slips out the door as quietly as he can to make himself scarce. He loves Bruce but there are just some things… But Bruce probably appreciates Clark leaving, because Alfred fussing him down like a child doesn’t do wonders for his ‘I am vengeance’ routine.

So Clark will be a caretaker for the Bats while Zatanna works out what precisely went wrong with…whatever went wrong. He’s been thinking about what this means – and most importantly is more than likely meals. They’re dragons so that means meat, probably. A _lot_ of meat. It’d honestly be best if they mixed Clark buying food with them acting on their predator instincts and hunting, but…well. No matter how far removed the mansion can manage to be from the rest of the city at the best of times, hunting isn’t an optimal long term solution.

Clark starts out of his thoughts when he realizes there is something cat-sized threading itself through his feet as he walks through the living room and back towards the kitchen to take inventory. He looks down and it’s a small dragon, deep green, with a narrow face, and with membranous wings that are simultaneously colored yet see-through – almost like butterfly and dragonfly wings mixed together.

Tim…? Clark guesses, if only because out of all the Bats, Tim is often with the smallest presence in all manner of things and perhaps…?

_I know, I know,_ Tim answers, tone joking and good-natured but quiet. _A faerie dragon, of course it would be *me*._

“No no,” Clark says hurriedly. But he doesn’t know how to follow that up with how he did indeed deduce Tim’s identity without further insulting the young man, so he lets it lie untouched. “Are you alright?”

_Fine_ , Tim insists, and leads the way back into the kitchen. He is spry and agile and silent on his feet, so not much different from his usual either. _I guess Bruce has commissioned you to take care of us?_

Clark laughs. “Something like that. Haven’t seen most of the others, besides Dick, though.”

Tim, in one leap, lands on the counter and then flicks his gossamer wings in a way reminiscent of a shrug. His tail wraps around his feet and Clark really does think of a cat now. _Barbara has been working out how to keep her computers and database going even in this form and set up base in the north wing – leave her alone until she emerges from her lair on her own. Which she will soon because Dick’s *probably* gone to bother her. And Jason is…well, you’re *not* gonna see him any time soon. Steph’s with Cass, and Cass is being annoyed by Damian – so they’re all out in the back somewhere on the grounds._

Clark lifts an eyebrow. “So you’ve been…?”

Tim flicks his wings out once before folding them down, and Clark doesn’t know if that’s something like a laugh or something else entirely. 

_In the library. I’m reading the books Zatanna left trying to help with that research best I can. At the very least figure out what biological things we should expect. Like that I’m mostly a vegetarian in this form, other than protein from bugs._

‘Reading’ sounds like ‘buried in’ in this context, but Clark knows enough about family dynamics that Stephanie and Dick probably have a hand in dragging him out of the many libraries and studies in the mansion.

“Vegetarian, got it,” Clark says with a smile. “Well, let me take a look around and then you’ll take me out back, then?” And Tim nods in agreement. 

Kitchen inventory takes very little time – they must have dwindled down on stock already and resorted to hunting in hopes this would reverse or be solved by now. Clark decides to put in a mass order for meats later tonight – he’ll have to ask Alfred how the process usually works, and they’ll just make do until the supplies come in.

Tim jumps off the counter and opens his wings to glide then float softly into a landing leads Clark to the backyard. _You don’t have to worry about cover stories,_ Tim informs him. _J’onn and M’gann helped us work some covers out with evidence and media sightings._

_Right,_ Clark says, looking around in awe at the grounds as they trek through. Without proper tending – surely most of the staff has had to be put on leave – the plants and grass have grown unwieldy and slowly are turning into something more feral. But, Clark cannot help but think, perhaps this is appropriate, considering the circumstances.

Tim scampers through the wildly long grass, easily at home in the element. Clark extends his hearing further along in the direction they’re headed and he hears…roaring?

_Oh for crying out –_ Tim thinks before unfolding his wings and taking off, going from nearly standing still to dashed flying in about _no_ time flat. Clark doesn’t want to startle anyone with a burst of super-speed, but honestly he’s a little shocked himself. He reaches his vision further to try and see if there’s anything immediately threatening going on.

In the distance, Clark sees a deep purple dragon, about the size of adolescent cattle or a full grown deer, but much stockier. It has its very impressive wingspan as its wings, barbed and sharp, unfurl and flap angrily. To the side of this dragon is another, one only slightly smaller and so deep blue it looks nearly black. It reminds Clark of both a porcupine and a stegosaurus, with spikes along the ridge of its spine rigidly flared out and a spiked club tail. Other than these deadly-looking appendages, it is nearly as sleek as Dick and looks frighteningly aerodynamic – a superb hunter, obviously. Facing down both these creatures is a smaller dragon, about the size of a very large dog, like a Great Dane, and a bronzed gold color. It has a powerful-looking jaw and something about its muscle distribution promises bulk – perhaps it’s the stubby but strong looking legs and the crocodile-like stance, but it could also be Clark’s years of helping raise the livestock on the farm kicking in. Its wings are not impressive, but the long cord-like tail that sharply whips around menacingly certainly is.

Clark decides that is enough looking, and rushes only a little bit with his super speed – he’s trying to avoid startling these three into a fight by suddenly appearing.

When he gets there, Tim is already perched on the purple dragon’s head (who is folding its large wings back down), hissing. _Damian can you chill out for maybe *ten seconds* of your life?_

The bronze-gold dragon growls in a deep, gravelly voice and cracks its tail in the air sharply. Closer up, that tail looks powerful enough to brain someone, and sharp enough to slice skin. _We were having a match. I was simply keeping in spirit – not everyone is so small they have to let their skills fall off._

“Uh,” Clark says, somewhat interjectory. “Hello?” Clark has…heard that these two do not get along. But he is not sure how he should disengage them. He does not know enough about their incompatibility to do so fairly, he fears. Tim only shakes his head at the barb though, and jumps down to the ground, immediately disappearing into the grass.

_Don’t do that. Don’t pick fights,_ the dark blue one says to Damian – ah and that is Cassandra’s voice. She is laying her spikes down and is now more unassuming in presence, though she noses Clark’s hand tentatively in what translates as a silent hello.

_Hi Clark_ , the purple one, Stephanie, says only a little wearily. _You here to play step-dad? Ooooor I guess *babysitter* is more appropriate to say, since I certainly hope there will be no hanky-panky with us as we are?_

Damian jerks back and a burst of shock transmits over the mind link. _Disgusting! *Fatgirl*!_

Clark kind of just wants to palm his face and sigh, but this whole ordeal is really only just beginning, so he tries to keep optimistic. _Hello Stephanie. I’ll try to help out best I can._

She sits down and wags her tail, and Clark is suddenly reminded of Krypto’s mannerisms. _Good_ , she says, ignoring Damian’s glare. _We’ll start with finally dragging Jason out of the maze, that overdramatic baby._

But it turns out getting Jason out of the maze is complicated – if only because he has been the first to work out how to use fire breath, and effectively. He also is a powerhouse – huge and the size of a _very_ large horse and _bulky_ and crimson red and everything Clark grew up learning dragons should look like – and stubborn as all get out.

On top of all of this, Clark is not feeling great about trying to _force_ Jason out of the maze. He’s comfortable there, and clearly peeved about something. Who is Clark to judge that – and deem it necessary for him to leave his nest?

_I don’t give a shit if Bruce’s *boyfriend* is here, I still don’t feel like dealing with all your shit,_ Jason grumbles over the link before blasting a warning fireball at Stephanie where she hovers in the air above his nest. Stephanie easily performs a quick flying maneuver to dodge the attack, but that leads to a potentially bigger problem here.

“Fire in the air is _not_ okay,” Clark says, that being the final straw for him (because that’s going into air space where planes fly and people are minding their own business and also they are trying to keep the fact that there are dragons running around the Wayne manor a secret), and he calls the whole thing off, for at least a little while.

They head back towards the house and Clark tries to reassure them that everything’s still okay. “We’ll just get Bruce to come talk to him later.”

_Todd wants to be left alone and I see no problem with that_ , Damian interjects. _If not for the fact that we have been prohibited from leaving the grounds and honing our abilities with these forms, I would take the same measures and spend most of my time alone too._

“Uh…”

Stephanie snorts extends one wing enough to whack him in the head. Damian snaps at the appendage, but she’s quick enough to dodge, hit him again, and then withdraw. It’s actually impressive. _Oh shut it Damian_ , she says. _Jason’s being a real pain in the rear for no good reason – we all have to be cooped up together. We’re *all* going stir-crazy._

Cass pulls ahead of the group, and Clark is a little astonished with the way her muscles visibly move under her skin with each step. They are all pure unadulterated power in these forms, it’s a lot of types of amazing. _He is not dealing well from before_ , Cass says. _From everything with Alfred. I understand._

Everything with Alfred? Clark really wishes he too understood – or at least knew a little more about what’s been going on in the last few weeks he’s been giving Bruce space to operate in Gotham alone. But he’ll keep telling himself it’s fine. He’ll manage fine on that – he’s managed on less reassuring things, honestly.

 

+++

 

Clark ends up sleeping in Bruce’s room – the master bedroom is large and Bruce doesn’t use the bed anyway.

_So dinner was…interesting?_ Clark offers questioningly. Barbara – well, Clark thinks the transformation didn’t change anything about the paralysis because of how she seems to support all her weight on her front legs, but then again it certainly hasn’t changed anything else about her either. Tim calls her a ‘pernese dragon’ and Clark doesn’t know what that means but she’s smooth and scale-less and though she has wings she teleports everywhere – and she also changes her base color of a light shimmery blue-white constantly to match her surroundings.

That’s not why dinner was a near disaster though – even with Barbara picking at Dick and Bruce with little jabs every now and again, because that is pretty normal. What it is, Clark thinks, is that Bats apparently are not…used to being in constant close vicinity with one another without being able to escape into the night for some peace and quiet – and this long exposure is slowly but surely taking its toll. The fact that they have apparently had to cut back on hunting and that Clark has yet to go get more food for them only tightened that tension for this particular meal.

_Damian is an instigator, Jason is being highly anti-social and everyone’s more agitated than usual because they’re hungry and cooped up_ , Bruce points out, blunt as ever and never one to beat around the bush. _And everyone’s also worried about Alfred and Alfred is annoyed that everyone is worried about him._

Clark laughs, beaten, and he reaches over the edge of the bed to pat Bruce’s head. “Alright, yeah, your family is a handful. But I do guess the least I can do is go get food tomorrow and take the edge off of a little.”

Bruce makes a snuffling sound that Clark hasn’t heard before, but it sounds a little more affectionate than Clark is used to from him. That Bruce follows it up by leaning up over the bed edge and nuzzling into Clark’s side for a brief second further confirms this.

They’ll get through this, Clark decides. Of course they will.

 

+++

 

Or not, and instead Clark might end up fighting for his life. Okay, he’s overreacting – but _really_ , he might have a panic attack over this, maybe, if every meal time always goes this way. 

The mass order hasn’t come in, but Clark’s managed to pull some favors and get a speed delivery of leftover parts to cover breakfast. The deal is that it comes in very early, before five and before other deliveries have to get underway, which is fine: Clark has grown up working with farmer’s early mornings, and the Bats usually are up at odd times too. Plus, it is unlikely that paparazzi or people in general will see this delivery to the Wayne manor and be able to deem it strange and worth investigating. 

Clark pays the man and helps him unload the boxes into the front hall, waiting for him to leave before using powers to speed up the process of moving everything to the backyard. He sets up just out back because of the bloody mess a pile of horse flanks and pig shoulders would leave in the kitchen is kind of horrifying to think about cleaning up.

However, something else horrifying that Clark didn’t think about was how dragon instincts might occasionally override human sensibilities. Instead, when this realization does occur, he’s wondering briefly if he should try cooking the meat because the potential horrors of inflicting the family with food poisoning or worms is something Clark would like to avoid.

He’s setting down the freshly unwrapped and still raw meat on the grass and looks up, wiping his hands of the visceral mess on a towel he snagged from the kitchen – when he _sees_ eyes shimmering in the lowlight of the twilight before he hears the rustle and creaking of leather scales. That’s what’s really spooky, that they manage to sneak up on him so silently. So there they are, there’s a pair of reflective predator eyes off in the distance coming in from the grounds, which has to be Jason – and two pairs stalking quietly closer from down off the roof.

Clark’s fight or flight senses start tingling and he puts in a burst of flight to leave the pile of food alone just in time. The three descend on the food with unnatural speed – sure enough it’s Jason, and the ones on the roof are Cass and Barbara. Barbara, in fact, reaches the meat first with her teleportation.

Clark barely has time to even think about telling them to wait for the others, because it’s like out of nowhere that they come too – Bruce honest-to-god appears from who even _knows_ what shadows, Dick scales out an open window and down the side of the house, Stephanie bolts out through the backdoor, and Damian dive bombs from a side wing’s roof.

“Everyone _calm down_ ,” Clark finds himself yelling over the snapping and growling and actual roaring that starts up soon, because apparently everyone’s been downplaying precisely how hungry they are and how wild fresh, raw meat drives them in these forms. Maybe it’s just one of those things that’s integral to the transformation; it all depends on how starved they’ve been and for how long, honestly.

His interjection doesn’t change much, though thankfully there’s no more roaring. Clark squints, because he needs a headcount and finds Tim missing – but then he remembers that Tim only eats bugs and fruits and vegetables. He could hunting in the dew-covered grass, at peace in his solitude, or maybe even still asleep or already holed up in one of the libraries – Clark will make rounds and check later, before leaving for work. Alfred’s missing too, but Clark had counted on that.

There’s still snapping and low rumbling angry sounds around the food pile, and now also the crunching of bones being shattered between sharp teeth though that’s them feeding on bone marrow, but Clark shakes his head and figures it’s as good as he can ask for. Clark heads back to the kitchen, where he had left one unopened box, set aside to take up to Alfred. The old man deserves as much, to be kept in Clark’s thoughts. Even if Alfred bristles under that kind of attention.

Alfred does as much when Clark knocks on his study’s door and enters with his meat.

_Oh honestly_ , Alfred sighs, though he does nose the offered food with interest. _You didn’t need to put aside so much. The others have been cutting their catches to make sure I stay well._

Clark honestly doesn’t know what to say to that, so he shrugs pulls up a seat to watch Alfred push through the meat until he finds a piece to his liking and starts to eat it. It must be the hunger, then, to explain the frenzy in the backyard, because Alfred easily and languidly tears off a long strip of pig flesh with his sharp teeth and devours it with a sort of admirable and collected grace. This could just be Alfred being Alfred, though.

Alfred eyes him, expression open and clear though observant, and continues to reduce tough, cheap meat to ribbons effortlessly. _I assume Master Bruce has told you precisely *nothing* about this mess?_

Clark finds himself shrugging again, and looks at the faint pinks and oranges beginning to fan out on the rug through the drapes as the sunrise breaks the dawn. “It’s alright. I’m happy to help. I don’t need to know all the details.”

Alfred makes a snorting noise and Clark listens to the muscles in Alfred’s wings contract as he rustles them indignantly. _I was sick_ , Alfred says, though this is something Clark knows. _Master Bruce panicked and incidentally involved the whole family. Eventually Klarion was needed to set things straight – if that puts things into perspective._

Well, it certainly does put some kind of _new_ perspective on things. “Voluntarily?” Clark asks, confused. “How did you even get him to agree?”

_It certainly took the combined wit of the whole clan._ Alfred licks the remaining carcass clean and moved for another piece, not intent on cracking open the bone for marrow like the others. _And some tricking on Miss Barbara’s part to keep him interested. Why do you think there was a *battle*?_

Alfred lapses into a comfortable silence, settling in with his breakfast. He doesn’t explain more – probably because if Bruce is to blame then there’s a certain amount of responsibility for him to explain the details, as well as the respecting of his privacy and free will to do in his own time a manner. What Alfred has let on, however, leaves Clark a little dazed – and a whole lot more intrigued.

“Huh.” Clark says, when Alfred eventually dismisses him with the leftover bones. “Glad we had this talk, Alfred.”

Alfred flicks his tail and fluffs his flightless wings around him as he re-positions on his nest of pillows and blankets. _It was my pleasure._

 

+++

 

Clark checks back in during his lunch break, just to make sure everything’s peachy. It mostly is: most promising is that Jason has come off the grounds, though Clark isn’t sure if it’s the promise of food or if someone’s had a talk with him between breakfast and now. At any rate, Jason is silent but watching, perched in the shadows of the back roofs. Tim, who Clark had been unable to find before work, is curled up in one of the rec rooms with Stephanie, tucked between her foreleg and her underbelly, the two taking a nap. Clark is again reminded of Krypto’s behavior, and how when left with little to do, sleeping away the boredom is the only option left. 

He knows the Bat clan is fidgety and, now without the immediate edge of hunger a distraction or excuse for irritation, he fears it may become a larger problem. He’s not sure what to do about it though. Without the edge of hunger though, they should also be able to keep their wits and reasoning too, and that’s the most Clark can hope for.

_Hey Clark,_ Dick says excitedly when Clark stumbles on him running flight circuits in the old gym’s trapeze air space. _Sorry about this morning. We sort of, well, were starving. Lost track of our manners and all that._

Clark waves his hand, though Dick maybe can’t see that with Clark on the ground while Dick’s sitting on a swaying trapeze swing. He looks just at home up there as ever – tail flicking and long body curved gracefully as he just casually rides the swing’s momentum like melody he feels in body – which is more a testament of how much Dick belongs flying in acrobatics through the air in his normal form. _No big deal, I talked to Alfred and he said as much._

Clark pauses in thought as Dick flings himself off the swing and, momentarily, his body is a shimmering impossible blue tangle in the air, just moving on itself like an infinite busy length of scales. Then he straightens and arcs and lands light-footed on the next swing and makes a smug, clicking noise that reminds Clark of a dolphin. Clark claps heartily – and Dick bows his head to receive it with gratitude – before he continues speaking. _The rest of the meat should be here by tomorrow, so you shouldn’t ever get that bad again._

Dick makes the smug clicks again, _Oh good, man you should *see* how contrite Bruce is about it – and I mean *contrite*, not sad. It’s a little hilarious and a little endearing, you know._

Clark’s sure it is – Bruce has a way of occasionally making his weird sense of pride somewhat endearing, and the supernatural causing of near-starvation leading to poor table manners is just one of those things Bruce _would_ get hung up on. If Clark can find him, he’ll set it as straight as he can before he heads back. If not, well. Well there’s dinner – and Clark’s put in a request for having shorter workdays because of a ‘family emergency’. His late nights at the Daily Planet should be sparser for a least a week or two, unless there’s some emergency or media jackpot story.

Clark sticks around for a few more tricks, which Dick shows partly out of thanks for the full meals and partly because it’s just what Dick _does_ , and then keeps moving on throughout the numerous halls and rooms in the manor to finish his headcount.

Barbara and Damian are in the martial arts training hall, though Barbara is nosing a tablet with something very akin to practiced expertise. It’s clearly not her first run at using electronics in this new form.

_Really_ , Clark thinks at her in a way of announcing his arrival. _You’ve managed to figure out using Smart technology without thumbs? Or even practical, non-scythe clawed fingers?_

She lifts her head to greet him, eyes sparkling with amusement. _It took a bit to make the settings sensitive enough to respond but not so much that accidental multi-touching didn’t freak out the respond time._ She whickers triumphantly. _Overall *not* my biggest challenge to date. Hey Clark._

Damian’s too busy with what looks like ripping apart training dummies to greet him. Damian typically just watches him closely and comments every now and then when Clark stops by, so honestly Clark hadn’t been expecting much.

“Um,” Clark says in regards to the dire viciousness with which Damian leaps at a dummy and clamps his jaw heavy and tight around the dummy’s appendages before ripping them off one by one. All to which Barbara just comfortingly grumbles.

_It’s fine, I’m running him through speed trials to burn off his energy._ She explains. _If Jason has fire, the rest of us probably have something like it too, and I’d rather Damian figure it out in this context than elsewhere._

_Excuse you, but I *have* self-control,_ Damian hisses snidely, stopping the massacre with his jaws to swing around his tail and slice the dummy in half.

_Alright kid, but you have two more drills, so I don’t wanna hear it till you’ve finished without losing your temper because you can’t beat the time record,_ Barbara calls, and uses her nose to drag a new robbery case into the proper ‘recent misdemeanor crimes’ folder. _Anyway, what’s up Clark? Isn’t it the middle of the workday?_

“Just checking up on everyone. Need anything?”

Barbara makes this low whoosing sound with her mouth that repeats a couple of times. Clark thinks it must be a laugh. _Just some space,_ she says, and with fast reflexes uses her front leg to hit away a flyaway dummy remnant aimed at her face. Damian makes a small _-tt-_ sound and Barbara rolls her eyes at him, _You’re five years too young to get the jump on me, Damian._ And he just makes the _-tt-_ sound again.

She looks back to Clark, point made for her. _I really miss having the option of retreating into solitude every now and then._

Clark understands that. Everyone needs their own ‘me time’ and the Bats… Well, ‘occasionally dysfunctional’ only describes the tip of their familial relations. “I’ll…try and get an update from Zatanna, and if there’s anything any of us can do speed up fixing this situation.”

Barbara clicks at him, _You shouldn’t bother her, she’s got her hands full with this on top of other things. But thanks. Really._

She shoos him off, though does let him know Cass is exploring the old tunnels beneath the cave before turning back to her electronics. Clark, after leaving the training hall, extends his sight and hearing to the sublevels of the mansion, wanting to check that Cass is fine without interrupting her explorations. After a moment he locates her and, with a little bit of watching, ascertains her well-being. She’s scaling walls and gliding to navigate the rocky tunnels and uneven footing, so Clark honestly thinks she’s having a good time. He leaves her to her own devices.

So there’s only one place left to look, Clark thinks as he realizes who is left on his headcount.

Sure enough Alfred is napping in his wing, which Clark checks on just to make sure he is comfortable and doesn’t need anything. There’s no surprise Alfred has stayed put. There is also no surprise that Bruce is just outside the door standing a silent guard. And though Clark passes him without a word on the way into Alfred’s room, he fixes Bruce with a look that is part incredulous and part exasperated. Bruce isn’t exactly being subtle here.

“Bruce,” Clark says on the tail end of a sigh when he comes back out. “Really.”

And maybe it’s something in Clark’s tone, or maybe Bruce is making assumptions, or maybe Alfred’s told him – but Bruce knows Clark’s a little more informed about this whole ordeal. Clark can tell with how delicately Bruce pieces together his next words. 

_He’s not entirely pleased with me_ , Bruce admits, and he’s implying so much more than just the over-worrying and the forced bed rest. Bruce messed up, and he knows it. Clark doesn’t know all the gritty details – but he doesn’t have to, not to understand what it feels like to make mistakes when trying to do the right thing.

Clark sighs again then crouches down on his haunches, reaching over with an assuredness that comes with being with Bruce for years, and gently touching the smooth leathery skin just above his eye ridges. That Bruce doesn’t flinch or pull away, just looks into Clark’s eyes waiting to see where this is going, is touching in a way that never gets old.

“He’s usually not happy with your decisions and actions in _general_ Bruce, but then you manage to bring him around.” Clark says, voice soothingly soft but words with the slight hard edge of reality. “Give it time – he’s allowed to worry about you in his own ways. The kids too.”

_…Other than Damian, they’re not really kids._ Bruce think-speaks, tone a little begrudging, finally blinking and leaning into the touch as Clark slides his hand to behind the ears and lightly scratches. 

_You’re allowed to worry in your own way too_ , Clark soothes, because if there’s anything Bruce shouldn’t take away from this but _might_ , it’s that his emotional attachment only brings about trouble. _But you’re also allowed to ask for help when you’re in over your head. I didn’t even *know* Alfred had been sick, Bruce. And I’m here for you, for those kinds of things._

Bruce ends up not saying anything in return to that, but grumble-purrs thoughtfully and eventually tucks his nose in the crook of Clark’s arm. It says more than Bruce’s words ever could, says millions of things about the careful ways Bruce loves.

“I’m here for you,” Clark repeats quietly as they sit together on floor. Bruce may be a dragon and this situation may be incredibly, surreally weird – but nothing’s really changed. Not for the two of them.

Clark gets back to work late from his lunch break, and though Lois thinks fast and comes up with a story about him running some investigative work for her as a cover, Perry’s less than pleased.

“You owe me, Kent,” Lois says with a smile that means she doesn’t actually want anything except to mess with him a little, and Clark laughs and holds out his hand to shake on it.

“Anything, anytime,” he says as she laughs too and takes his hand in hers, grip firm and strong. “Thanks for the save.”

And overall, it’s just one of those days that’s pretty good.

 

+++

 

So Clark gets used to the dragon thing. And the others get used to him being there all the time. Damian doesn’t really warm up to him, which Clark never expected – but Jason kind of does. Which Clark…didn’t expect either, but it’s nice because it reminds Clark of the simpler times when Jason was an eager little kid bouncing around in the Robin suit.

_I’m hungry_ , Jason says, putting his chin directly on the top of Clark’s head, pressing down with an unnecessary amount of weight. _Dinner?_

Clark quirks an eyebrow in amusement, says, “What, are you a cat? I’m making dinner right this second, hold on.”

Clark reaches up and pats Jason’s neck a little before going back to setting up the bonfire. Clark sometimes lets them eat raw, but Tim’s been reading and he’s found that dragons with fire tend to cook their food before eating it – which might be a hunting thing, but still. And while Jason’s still the only one they _know_ has fire, Clark just wants to avoid any avoidable mishaps. Plus, they all seem to get a kick out of having to pull flaming meat out of burning pile. So there’s that.

Jason makes the happy grumble-purr noise that they all seem to be able to do, clearly on principle to act in further cat-like ways, before moving his head off and giving Clark some space. As the smell of meat cooking wafts over the grounds, the rest of the family starts coming out too. And it’s nice, the sense of familiar camaraderie.

It’s been a couple of weeks and Alfred’s getting much better, and the others are finally convinced of this fact too, so he joins them outside for mealtimes now. With the return of his health, there’s a less tense atmosphere around the house – most times. There’s some things time only makes worse, and it’s evident in the occasional near fights that break out from agitation – Clark has had to physically separate Stephanie and Jason before when the restless hissing and snapping escalated to the two literally at each other’s throats.

They’ve all at some point gotten unreasonably testy from agitation and acted out in various ways, and it’s just one of those inevitable things that has no immediate solution. But as Damian snipes at Tim and Tim, though tail and wings clearly flicking with tension, ignores him to talk with Dick and Barbara, Clark makes a note to ask Zatanna and maybe Diana (who knows a great number of remote and mythical islands that hopefully wouldn’t be too distraught about dragons) about ways to get the Bats out of each other’s company for a little while.

Clark fears he’ll have to interject in the Damian and Tim thing, but then Cass flicks Damian with her tail and Bruce arrives, and the combined presence of two people he respects sobers Damian. Stephanie immediately engages him in conversation and is teasing him, which means he’ll soon get either embarrassed or annoyed (or both) and retreat into reluctantly shadowing Dick for the remainder of the night.

It’s kind of great, Clark thinks as he proclaims the food ready and gives the bonfire space so they can start tearing apart the structure and pulling out meat as they please (Tim also backs up, retreating to his bowl of cut up fruits and vegetables), that he kind of understands their dynamics a little better. It makes Clark feel included in certain parts of Bruce’s life that he hasn’t really had a place in before. Not an abundant, clearly marked place.

But now he eats dinner with them (tonight it’s mashed potatoes, green beans, and a medium-done steak he cooked on the stove). He reassures them with updates from Zatanna and secretly plans outings to surprise them with. He stays in the city – in the mansion, in their _home_ – more often than he stays in his own as of late. Bruce actually _asked_ him to occasionally patrol Gotham in his stead, despite his ‘no metas’ rule. And though there are details to work out, the amount of trust it all entails makes the request the greatest ‘I love you’ Clark has ever heard. 

And that night, as Bruce affectionately noses Clark’s side over the edge of the bed before curling into in his nest of blankets on the floor, Clark realizes – he feels like he’s actually part of the family.

_Thanks Clark_ , Bruce says, as his rustling quiets and he settles down for the night. _This all means a lot to me._

Clark still doesn’t know all the details behind these circumstances. Zatanna knows she can reverse the dragon thing, but she’s still collecting materials and knowledge and information to conjure up the right solution. The press – Daily Planet included – are starting to get curious about where Bruce Wayne and his wards are and why they’ve been gone so long. It isn’t ideal. But when is it ever?

_No problem Bruce_ , Clark answers easily. _This all – it means a lot to me too._

Clark knows Bruce understands precisely what he means by that. And at this moment, not much else matters.

**Author's Note:**

> Ha ha, if you want some random refs and blathering check it out [here](http://ruilin.dreamwidth.org/372.html)? And uhhhh I also dabbled in dragon sex just to see if I could? So if you want to see that let me know and I'll clean it up and put it on my DW eventually. Ha ha, no shame in my game. Anyway, I hope this fulfills what the prompter wanted, even though it was a bit rushed.


End file.
